BVK: Backstage
by MidnightTrain
Summary: Alternate point of views & additional scenes from the story Black Velvet Kings. These will be mostly EPOV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **so this is my attempted apology at being so epically fail-y with updates. I've been secretly working on some EPOV scenes for you guys. And, well, this is the first :)

Thanks to cejsmom for encouraging me to write these in the first place, and then encouraging me to finally post them! I actually feel bad attaching my name to these at all, lol. Also she preread for me, because she's awesome like that. I didn't even get a chance to send this to my beta (Kristina ilu!) because I was in such a rush to post.

I know Summer 2009 may not make any sense to you time-wise in the story. But you'll catch on to where we are at soon enough :)

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**Summer 2009**

**EPOV**

"Yo, E, get your ass up!"

I'm yanked ruthlessly from a bright, warm dream by the sound of someone pounding on the door to my hotel room. Still half-asleep, I roll over and grope around the bed blindly, not even certain what I'm reaching for until I begin to separate my dream from reality and realize I'm alone in the bed. I groan and bury my face in the warmth of the blankets twisted around my body, and for one last moment she's there under the sheets with me. There's the sound of a heavy fist rapping against the door, followed by, "E! Don't make me go find a fucking key!"

It's like he's trying to torture me. It's like he knows what I'm dreaming about, the son of a bitch. He has to.

"Fuck off," I mumble, though I know he can't hear me. I have nowhere to be this morning. It's the fucking first sleep-in day I've had in over a month, and I get the honor of being woken by the sound of Jasper Whitlock hammering on my door. Not cool.

"Cullen! Come on man," Jas pleads.

I figure Alice has probably locked him out of their room again and he's looking for a place to crash, but the fucker saws logs like nobody's business and I really just want to get some fucking sleep.

So I don't get up. Instead, I blindly grab one of the spare pillows and mash it over my head and ignore the sounds outside my door until eventually they fade away. I'm just hardly on the cusp of sleep when the shrill ringing on the hotel phone nearly causes me to jump out of my skin.

I swear under my breath, my heart still thumping at the surprise as I glare at the offending phone. Goddamn, I usually remember to unplug the phone on my mornings off. I consider ignoring the ringing, but when I realize he'll just call back again and again and again, I angrily grab the receiver and grind out, "Fuck. Off."

Jasper's reply is hasty. "E! Don't hang up. You gotta get up, man."

"Come on, dude," I groan, rolling over onto my back. I rub my hand over my face and scowl up at the darkened ceiling. "You know I'd be more than happy to meet with you any other morning, but Jas it's _my _day-"

"For fuck sakes, Cullen. You sound like a goddamn child. We just... we need to talk, all right?"

That's when I notice there's an urgency in his voice that makes my stomach drop. In an instant I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, not certain how I managed to get up so fast.

My mouth feels dry. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"Just get your ass up and open your door," he tells me. "I'll be right over."

"Okay, okay." I've taken three strides toward the door when I realize the phone is still in my hand. I toss it back towards the bed, and it clatters loudly as it hits the night table and sweeps towards the floor, swinging by the cord. I release the latch on the door and I'm taking a piss when Jasper lets himself into the room. The first thing he does is walk to the far side of the small room and rip open the blinds and the light that comes crashing through the windows tells me it's not nearly as early as my brain thinks it is. I shield my eyes when I come out of the bathroom and stumble around the room, looking for a pair of pants.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to stay in the room I book for you, you fuck," he mutters as he wrenches open a window and plops himself down next to it, lighting up the joint that's hanging from his lips. Most days I figure I wouldn't recognize him if he weren't smoking something.

"I don't need a damn suite," I tell him as I pull on a pair of jeans that were hanging over the back of a chair. "I just want to _sleep_." I stare at him and he just kind of blinks back at me, like he's completely forgotten that he's the reason I'm no longer dreaming of tangled sheets and smudged eyeliner on the pillow next to mine.

"What the hell, Jas? Where's the fire you were screaming about thirty seconds ago?"

"Oh," he coughs and offers me the joint, but I shake my head, impatient. "Well, uhhh, your mom has been trying to get a hold of you all morning. She's left a couple messages on my cell."

I roll my eyes and deposit the phone back in the base before I start fumbling around with the coffee pot. "I told her that was for emergencies only."

Jasper hesitates. "Well..."

I freeze with a bag of coffee hanging from one hand. "What?"

"Well, I was sleeping - because I've got the morning off too you dick - and Al was sick of my phone ringing, so she finally answered it. But it wasn't your mom that time."

"O-okay..." I set the coffee down and cross my arms over my chest as I face him. "Who was it then?"

"Garrett."

"_Garrett?" _I repeat, and instantly my chest swells with anger at just having to speak his name. "He _called_ you? What the hell did he want?"

He doesn't reply right away, and I'm so disgusted by the thought of Garrett calling Jasper that it doesn't click immediately. In fact, I don't even understand it until Jasper begins to spell it out for me.

"Well, I guess... Edward, Bella had an accident this morning," he says gently, staring down at the burning joint his fingers while he speaks. "I don't know the details, but it sounds like she fell down some stairs and hit her head. They took her to emerg this morning and Garrett said she's already been admitted. I guess they're just waiting for some tests now to find out the extent of her injuries..."

I don't really hear much else after that. I begin throwing clothes in a bag. I find a t-shirt and pull it on. I grab my phone off the nightstand and switch it on, and the moment it powers up I start getting voicemail alerts from both my parents' phones. I call my mom at home and pace circles around the room with the phone wedged between my shoulder and ear and she tells me pretty much everything Jasper just did. That they don't know how bad it is, that she's still not awake, that Carlisle is with her, that Masen is fine, that Garrett called Jasper when no one could get a hold of me.

Jasper realizes what I'm doing and he gets on his phone, first cancelling my TV appearance at MuchMusic and then booking me the first flight he can get out of Toronto.

When I'm packed and he's off the phone we both just stop and look at each other. I know we are thinking the same thing - that when the dust settles, we are going to catch an earful from the label. Me for leaving and him for letting me.

"Jas-"

Holds up his hand, cutting me off. "Just be back by tomorrow night. If you miss that show, you know I'll lose my job."

"I'll be here," I promise, though we both know that there's a chance I can't keep it.

I pick my bag up off the floor and sling it over my shoulder. Jasper just watches me with the same look in his eye that he does every time I leave to go see her – like he's wondering if I'll come back.

I don't tell him that every single time I leave, I wonder the same damn thing.

**.x.**

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**A/N: **I'm so curious to know your thoughts on our first EPOV chapter!

Thanks for reading! xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Just for reference, summer 2006 is when Edward leaves for his first big tour. And, well, you know what happens.

Thanks to my beautiful beta Kristina, and my amazing prereader cejsmom!

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**Summer 2006**

**EPOV**

I'm sitting in a swiveling chair, spinning myself around and around in an attempt to stay awake. There are two sound engineers next to me, pushing buttons and sliding the controls up and down as Ty sits in the recording booth with his bass on his lap, fighting back a yawn. It feels like we've been at this all day. I glance at the clock on the wall behind me as I make another rotation in the chair, and realize with a start that it's after eleven pm and, shit, we have been. The sound engineers are muttering to each other about the bass solo and I roll my eyes.

I dig my heels into the floor to stop myself and lean forward. "Isn't this enough for today?" I ask them.

The blonde guy sitting closest to me slides his headphones off. "Boss wanted us to finish up this track today," he tells me without actually looking at me. "They want to get this in rotation as soon as possible."

"I don't see why we can't just finish this up in the morning. He'll never get this right if he doesn't get some sleep," I say, nodding towards Ty as my fingers drum restlessly on my knee.

"Just following orders," the guy says, and turns back toward the booth. I get the feeling there's something he's not telling me and I scowl.

"Yeah, but do I really have to stay for this?"

"Got somewhere more important to be?" he grunts. I narrow my eyes at him because I know what he's thinking – hotshot musician has some party to be at and models to go fuck around with. But I'm only thinking of Bella sitting at home all alone, probably waiting with dinner ready. I think I called her at six o'clock and told her I wouldn't be more than an hour. I know she'll understand but, shit, I hate sitting around here when I could be with her.

"Anyway, your manager called and he wants you to stick around – he's coming in to talk to you guys." He puts his headphones back in place, signaling the conversation is over. I growl under my breath and get to my feet.

"Well, fuck. I'm getting some coffee," I snap and heave the door open with more force than necessary as I leave. I storm down the hall and find Mark sleeping in the break room, face down on the small table set up in the corner. A full cup of coffee sits on the table next to where he's passed out. He wakes with a jump when I drag one of the metal chairs across the lino and collapse into the seat across from him.

"Dude, this sucks," I groan, my neck and back cracking as I stretch out in the chair. "Look at you – we're all fucking exhausted. Ty can hardly keep his eyes open."

"Mmmm," Mark agrees, rubbing his eyes as he lifts his head. He blinks sleepily a few times and shakes his head. "Is he still in there?"

I nod, my fingers continuing their restless drumming on the tabletop. "The fuck are they thinking anyway? It's not like we can release any of this shit until Gare can lay down the drums. And who the hell knows when he'll be up for that."

Mark just shrugs and takes a sip of his coffee. He makes a face as he swallows. "Shit," he shudders. "That's cold. Gross." But he takes another sip anyway and I snort in laughter.

"I can make some more, dumbass."

He just shrugs. "Ah, whatever."

I'm about to get to my feet to start the coffee pot when the door to the small room swings open and Jasper strolls through. He's got a case of beer tucked under one arm and he's swinging a ring of keys around the index finger of his free hand.

"Oh, thank fuck," I breathe as I collapse back into the chair. "Please tell me you're here to rescue us."

Jasper rolls his eyes as he sets the beer down on the table between Mark and I. "Oh no, don't tell me they're making you fuckers actually _work_." He tears open the box of beer and passes one to each of us.

"Shut up," I say as I set the beer on the table without opening it. "It's been a long ass day and I want to get the hell home, man. And I just don't understand why they're so adamant about finishing up this track _tonight_. It's not like they can do anything with it without the drums, anyway."

"Right," Jasper agrees slowly, but he's got that look in his eye that I hate.

I eye him suspiciously and he squirms. "What?" I ask.

He tries to brush me off. "Nothin'."

"Come on. Spill it," I demand. He still somehow thinks he can lie to me when I've known him practically my entire life.

"Edward…" Jasper warns, his jaw clenched in annoyance. I can tell he's silently willing me to drop it. But I only narrow my eyes back at him because I am _not _in the mood.

"What?" Mark asks, looking between Jas and I in confusion.

"He's not telling us something," I tell Mark. "Spill it, man. You know you can't hold out on us – we're still your friends, remember?"

He shifts uncomfortably. I know he hates it when I play that card. "Let's just wait until Ty is done, all right?" Jas says.

"No way – he could be in there another three hours still," Mark argues.

"I thought he was finishing up?" Jas asks as he takes a sip of his beer.

"He's having an off day," I mutter. "Which is just another reason why we should wrap it up for the night." Ty's always been more of an _artistic _bass player than a technical one. And with the sound engineers and studio yelling in his ear all day about absolute musical perfection and cohesion, he's been a little rattled. To say the least.

Jas keeps insisting the execs will give us more freedom on the next album, so long as this first one is successful. But if they don't give us a little leeway, then there will never _be_ a first album.

"Just give him a few more takes," Jasper says.

I shake my head. "If you're not going to tell us what's going on, I'm getting out of here. I've got a pregnant girlfriend at home waiting for me, and I signed up to be out there playing shows, not sitting on my ass in a studio until the fucking wee hours of the morning."

Jasper lets out a long breath, but finally agrees. "_Fine_. But I'll talk to Tyler later, because he's seriously got to get this shit finished tonight."

"Fine," I say coolly, and lean back in my chair as I silently celebrate my mini-victory. Now just that much sooner until I get home to Bell… Only five hours later than I'd planned. Shit. The girl is a saint for being so patient when it comes to this crap.

Jasper takes another sip of his beer as he stalls. But Mark and I are both staring him down, so he pulls up a chair and joins us at the table. He clasps his hands in front of him and leans on his elbows as he looks between the two of us.

"The label is pushing you guys to get these tracks down because they want you out there on the road, touring." I don't react, but I silently celebrate another victory. Because, shit, out there on the road, up on stage – that's where we belong. That's where the music matters. There's where the magic happens.

"So Garrett's feeling better, then?" Mark grins. "That's awesome."

Jasper hesitates. "Well… Not exactly."

Mark and I glance at each other in confusion, though I can tell we're both thinking the same thing.

I turn to Jasper, watching him carefully.

They wouldn't…

Jas shifts uncomfortably and picks at the label on his beer.

…_Would they?_

Jas sighs. "You're not making them any money, sitting around here waiting for Garrett to be well enough to get in the studio. Never mind even thinking about him going on a tour any time soon. Who knows how long it'll be until he's a hundred percent again."

"Jasper, please tell me you're not taking about-" I begin, but he holds up his hand to stop me.

"They found you another drummer," he says, and the son of a bitch has the nerve to actually sound _sorry_.

"_What?!_ They can't do that!" Mark objects angrily.

Jasper looks up at us. "Actually, they can, and they did. They've been sending him what you've been working on in here… He's based out of L.A., but I guess they were impressed with what he's sent them back…"

"Behind our backs?" I ask, dumbfounded. "They didn't even… they didn't even check with us? Didn't even want to know what we thought on the matter? Garrett is just as much a part of this band as any of us!"

Jasper just gives me a look that clearly says 'not anymore'. He takes a sip of his beer, then mutters, "Welcome to the big leagues."

I feel sick, just thinking about how Garrett is going to take the news. He's going to be _devastated_. Talk about kicking a guy when he's down…

"So what the hell is the rush to fill his spot?" Mark asks.

"Just what I was explaining – you guys are on schedule to finish recording by the end of the week. And after that, you're not doing much for them sitting around here. And I know that tour we had scheduled didn't work out, because of…" his voice dies off and I realize he can't even bring himself to say Garrett's name out loud. Cocksucker.

He shakes himself. "Anyway, I know we missed the boat on that tour opening for Volbeat, but there are legs of some European tours still open for a couple other bands, and they're interested in picking you guys up. Well, more than interested, actually. They booked you guys, and the first show is in Stockholm. We'll leave two weeks from Saturday." His voice is low when he adds, "And the tour will be wrapped up by next summer."

"Are you – holy shit dude! Fucking rights, that's awesome!" Mark does a fist pump and raises his beer to cheers me. But as I slowly look up, I feel the color drain from my face. And I watch Mark's face fall as he reads my expression, as he pieces together what's going through my head.

"Shit, dude, I'm sorry. I didn't think-"

"Jasper," I grind out, cutting off Mark's apology. "Please, _please_ tell me you're not serious."

Jasper won't even meet my eye as he replies. "It's not like I had a choice in the matter, man. You guys signed with a label – it's their call. And you do what they say or they drop your asses faster than a whore's pants, and then they fucking make sure you never make music again."

"That's bullshit," I growl.

"No, Edward," Jasper says quietly, looking up and finally looking me in the eye. "It's not."

I close my eyes, beginning to feel nauseous. I hear Mark get up and head out, to go celebrate the good news or just giving Jas and I space to hash this out in private, I don't know. My chest feels tight as I just slump back in my chair, thinking about Bella, thinking about the baby, thinking about thirteen months, thinking about… thinking about how the hell I'm supposed to break this to her and not break her heart in the process.

"Jas, what the hell is wrong with North America?!" I ask finally, my voice trembling with anger. "Or this hemisphere, for that matter?"

"Man, you know a lot of bands get their start overseas."

"We've already _had_ our start. _Here_."

"It's not enough, all right?" Jasper snaps. "They're not convinced you guys are going to make it. They don't think you'll be able to sell this album without the proper following, and right now it's not enough. So you're going to be opening for some huge shows for some huge bands, and then when the year is up, they'll reevaluate you. They'll see what the demand is like. But right now, they can't put you on a major tour in North America because they just don't have the proof you guys can pull in the numbers they need to keep you afloat in this market."

I have my elbows on the table and my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair and tugging at the roots in frustration. When I look up, I feel dizzy and for a moment I think I might get sick. I look around the room, trying to find something to anchor me, to stop the walls from spinning and dipping at the edges of my vision. I stare at a painting hanging crookedly from the wall across the room and swallow hard, but my voice is still shaky when I say, "What's wrong with the venues we've been playing the last few years? We've sold out almost every show, and you know half those fans weren't there to see the headliners."

"_I _know that, Edward!" Jasper says fervently, "But _they_ don't! And man, you can't honestly think that selling out some little club compares to playing a sold out show at Madison Square Garden. You don't just jump from one to another – there's always a platform between and this is it. And honestly, the label has no idea how well mainstream media is going to accept your music. When you guys signed, you knew full well what direction they wanted to take this band, and you promised them a sure thing. And record labels don't have the liberty of taking risks these days, so they're just doing what they can to ensure they're not making a huge mistake on you guys. So you put in the time, and you write some killer songs and you play some killer shows, and then you get to some play closer to home. But right now, there is _nothing_ I can do about it."

"But Jas…" I say, my voice weak. "Bella… And this baby."

Jasper jumps to his feet in anger. "Edward, _she_'s the one who followed you out here. She followed you knowing _damn well—_"

"Don't give me that shit!" I yell, and before I know it I'm on my feet and my face is in Jasper's face, and my fist is clenched and I'm about to clock my best fucking friend in the teeth. I've got one hand curled around the collar of his shirt and I let him go roughly, pushing him back. I suck in a deep breath and exhale through my teeth. "Fuck you, man. She didn't _know _shit – none of us had any idea this was going to happen! And we didn't plan for this baby." My voice breaks as I say, "I _promised_ her, man. I fucking _promised_ her…"

Jasper shakes his head in aggravation. "I didn't hold a fucking gun to your head to get you to sign that contract. And I sure as hell didn't put this idea in your head that you could have a family at this point in your life. You knew about that baby when you put your pen to the paper, so don't you dare play the victim. _You_ made those choices and right now it's your mess to clean up."

I feel all the fury drain from my body as his words hit me. I blink as I stumble blindly backward, collapsing into the plastic chair. My mess. My baby. Mine… And _Bella_. Oh _god_. I'm silent for a moment as I stare down at the table, wondering what the fuck, just… what the _fuck?_

"What if I don't go?" I ask weakly, running my fingers through my hair. "What if I tell the label that if they want us to go on that tour, then they have to find a new singer?"

"Then they'll tell all of you to go fuck yourselves," Jasper says bluntly. "These guys still have the power to make sure that you never play another show again, not even if it's just the Legion back in Forks, man. And you'll not only be throwing away your future, but two of your best friend's futures with it – and mine, for that matter. I put everything on the line for you guys. And don't forget about the future of this kid you wanted so badly – because Edward, what the hell is your back-up plan? Waiting tables at Mario's for the rest of your life? Maybe catch a break and get a gig as a line cook for the breakfast shift at Humpty's? Music is your future, man, and you know it. And if you throw this away right now, you are saying good-bye to absolutely any kind of future in this business. You won't even be able to get a job as a fucking middle school music teacher if you walk away like this. So what's your plan? I know for a fact that your grades won't get you into any half-decent schools, and how do you expect to pay for that shit with a kid on the way, anyway?"

"Stop it," I gasp, burying my head in my hands. I feel like I'm drowning in his words, in the truth behind them, and I fight to keep my head above water. "Just shut the fuck up." For once, Jasper actually listens to me, but I think that it's only because he's made his point.

"This is so fucked up," I say. I dig my palms into my eyes and will the clocks to turn back even just ten minutes, back to when my biggest problem was being late for dinner. Dinner. Bella. _Shit_, I'm so fucked.

"Edward, six months ago, this was your _dream_."

"Yeah and six months ago Bell would have been right there with me."

"Like I said, I wasn't the one -"

I stop him by getting to my feet. "Yeah, I get it. I fucked up, but the thing is Jas – I can't take this shit back. There's a baby and it's coming whether I'm here or not…"

"_Exactly_," Jasper says softly, and I just stop and stare at him, wondering when exactly my best friend turned into this person standing in front of me.

"Whatever," I mutter, shaking my head. I pat my pockets for my keys, my hands trembling like an alcoholic jonesing for a drink. "I'm getting the fuck out of here. Any more bombs you'd like to drop of me before I leave? Have anything else up your sleeve? Any other ways in which you'd like to ruin my life?"

"I'm not ruining _shit_, Edward. Man up and deal with the consequences of your choices," Jasper says.

"Yeah," I laugh bitterly as I turn and head for the door. "And tell me, just what fucking choice do I have?"

**.x.**

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**A/N: **Soooo... I'm especially nervous/excited to hear reactions for this chapter. Try to not gang up on ole Jas - he's just telling it like it is.

Thanks for reading, guys!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So this guy takes place a few months before the wedding. Thanks to cejsmom for prereading and Kristina for doing her amazing beta work. And thank you guys so much for reading, reviewing, and just being plain awesome. Hope you enjoy!

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**Spring 2011**

**EPOV**

The crisp spring air fills my lungs as I shrug out of my jacket lean back on the park bench, watching Masen with a weary smile on my lips. He's jumping through the puddles on the sidewalk, grinning with satisfaction as the light concrete is darkened by splashes of water that are slowly erased by the sun. I'm afraid to look away, and I'm afraid to blink, afraid that I'll miss one smile, one giggle, one moment. It's always so hard spending time with him, knowing that it won't last. Knowing these moments are limited. But today… Today is worse.

Today the melodies are sorrow and despair, today the notes are long drawn and burning of melancholy; today the bright sunlight is clouded by regret.

It differs little from any other day, though it's undeniably worse. Today is worse.

This morning, when I picked Masen up, things had changed. Like the inevitable transition of the seasons, but more permanent, more irreparable, because there was no hope that gentle thaw of spring would eventually cycle back around. This morning, Bella had decided to leave Masen at Esme's so that I wouldn't have to come to her house. So that she wouldn't have to see me. Nobody said what they were really thinking, skirting around the truth as to why it was so difficult, so impossible for us to face one another. But we all knew.

Maybe it was for the best, but maybe I always liked that I got to see her when I came to visit the son that we shared.

_Shared_.

Not really, though.

My own son had been terrified of me this morning, clinging to his Grandma, begging to stay and play with her and Grandpa Carlisle. I'm sure I'll always carry it with me – the apprehension on his face, looking up at me like I was a stranger.

Which I practically was.

I knew exactly how many days it had been since I'd seen him last. And as the number climbed past a hundred, I knew this time it had been too long. I knew that this time, he was old enough to know. I knew that this time would be different. I knew, but I couldn't have predicted the icy, wrenching betrayal that twisted in my chest and nearly crippled me when I saw the look on Masen's face and I realized he didn't want to come with me. When I realized that he didn't recognize me. That he was _afraid. _Of _me. _

He was supposed to always be the one who greeted me with unabashed excitement. He was the one who was never supposed to hold it against me, how long I'd been away. Even as a toddler, he'd never played shy with me. Not once.

"All kids do it," Esme told me when Masen began whimpering for his mom, her voice laced with sympathy. But it did little to ease my humiliation – I wasn't some uncle that he saw only at Christmas or a family friend who came around once or twice a year. I was his _father._

"Mom," I'd choked out and then I realized what a pair Masen and I made – both crying for our mothers.

Esme had just looked at me – her face the same mixture of happiness and pain she always wore around me. Like she was proud of me, but if she'd been able to choose a life for me, this would never be it. Family was everything to my mother, and I'd failed her. I'd failed my family.

Today she wore more pain than happiness.

"Come with us," I'd pleaded. "We're just going to the park."

Esme shook her head. "He's your son, Edward."

"Tell him that," I'd said, trying to sound angry. But my eyes betrayed me with the burning sting of rejection.

It wasn't his fault, the way he was acting. _He_ had done nothing wrong.

"Not everything is beyond repair," Esme said softly, but I'd never doubted my mother more.

We got out to the car, and it took Masen thirty minutes to stop crying for Bella and Garrett. Thirty tortuously long minutes of hearing him wail, _"I want my Momma"_ and _"I want my Garrett."_ And in those thirty minutes, something within me changed. There was a sudden resolve and clarity in the breaths I drew, like I'd just come to a decision that had been haunting me for a long time.

What I had decided though, I wasn't exactly sure.

By the time we'd arrived at the park near my apartment, things had begun to return to their normal rhythm. He gave me a tentative smile when I told him I'd bought ice cream for us to have after dinner, and then he'd told me that Aunt Rose had let him play with dolls last week and Garrett didn't like that and, oh yeah, he'd packed _Toy Story_ and could we please watch it tonight? It's his all-time favorite movie.

"Absolutely," I told him as we got out of the car. I could feel the tightness behind my smile, and I tried, I tried to relax. "It's my all-time favorite, too."

He'd liked that.

But I still couldn't shake the feeling I'd made my mind up about something, even if I didn't know what.

"Daddy, watch!" Masen shouts, and I tug on the brim of my hat and watch as he takes a running start before leaping into one of the biggest puddles. He sweeps his boot through the water so that droplets trail out from the puddle to the ground next to my shoes. I look up at him in mock horror.

"Hey!"

He grins, toothy and wide. My heart skips a beat.

The front of his jean are soaked through, and I'm sure his fire-engine red rubber boots are filling with water, but I'm so relieved to see that he's enjoying himself that I don't have the heart to stop him.

I glimpse farther down the sidewalk to where Demetri, bodyguard extraordinaire, sits. His thick arms are crossed over his chest as he casually glances our way, and though he's supposed to blend in, he fails terribly. He probably draws more attention than just Masen and I would on our own. But like Jasper says, better safe than… not. By now, maybe it should feel normal to have security tailing us, but it doesn't. Admitting that you need someone there to protect you and your son for an innocent excursion to the park isn't _normal. _Dem is always careful to keep a respectable distance and Masen never mentions it, but I know he knows we're being watched.

"Daddy, come splash with me!" Masen says, eyes bright as I get to my feet. I leap towards the puddle next to him, and he shrieks with laughter. I race with him through ankle-deep puddles in brand new sneakers, and it doesn't take long until we're both soaked.

"This is fun," Masen says, looking up at me like he's finally just remembered all the long afternoons we've spent together in this very park.

"It is," I agree. I grin and pat the top of his head, where his floppy red rain hat sits. It matches the boots he wearing – Esme says he hasn't taken them off all winter. She said a girl at preschool told him that she liked his hat, and he's worn it everywhere since.

A _girl. _

Somewhere along the way my little kid became a boy, and I missed it entirely.

"Can I push you on the swing?" Masen asks, looking toward the swing set across the playground.

I look down at my feet – my shoes, my socks, everything is soaking wet. My jeans are heavy with water from the calf down. "You're not cold?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

I don't remember being cold very often when I was a kid either. It's not all that warm out and the sand is still wet from the rain, but the sky is clear and the sun is shining. We'll probably dry out soon enough, but I know to watch him, and drag him home and into dry clothes the moment he starts to look chilled.

Besides, I'm not ready to go yet either.

"Okay," I agree. "Let's go."

His face lights up again and he tears across the park, his legs taking him as fast as they can towards the swing set. I tip my head towards Dem before I grab my jacket and jog after Masen.

When I catch up to Masen at the swing set, I let him push me and he watches with amazement at how high I can get. My hat blows off in the breeze and Masen rushes to grab it. I laugh, realizing that somehow I've forgotten how much fun swings are. The smile that spreads across my face feels so genuine that I almost forget the hollow ache that's settled in my chest for the past six months.

Almost.

"You're as tall as the trees, Daddy!" Masen shouts excitedly as he races back to the swings and climbs onto the one next to mine, legs pumping furiously as he tries to get moving.

"Give yourself a push and lean back when you go back, Mase," I instruct as I swing by. "And sit up when you start to come back up. Make sure you hold on tight." I grin when his face twists up in concentration as he begins to gain momentum. I hop off the swing and the chains rattle behind me.

"There you go!" I cheer, and finally his face breaks out into a proud smile. "All by yourself!" He lets out a cryof delight as he lurches toward sky. I sit back in my swing, leaning back as I squint through the sun to watch him.

It's in that moment that I feel we have an audience, and I tense, watching Masen, trying to absorb everything about him in that moment before I turn around and it ends. I casually pick my hat up from where Masen dropped it in the sand, brushing it off on my jeans before settling it back on top of my head. I dig my sunglasses out of my pocket and roll up the collar of my jacket. I finally chance a look over my shoulder, my shoulders sagging as I sigh.

My cell rings in my pocket, and I know who it is before I even look at it.

"You've got company," Demetri says when I answer.

I sigh. "I saw them. I guess we'll head to the apartment."

"I'll follow you there." I'd try and tell him he doesn't have to, but he would anyway.

"Thanks, Dem," I say and then hang up.

I let out a long breath, chewing on my lip. "Hey Mase?" I finally say as he swings by. "We gotta go, buddy."

"Already?" he looks down at me, frowning, hands still wrapped tight around the chains.

"Yeah," I say as I stand behind him and grab the sides of the swing to slow him down. "I'm sorry."

His feet kick the sand as he looks behind us at the small crowd gathered. There are a group of teenage girls and two moms with their toddlers, and I can see the cell phones in their hands, paying too close of attention. They're trying and failing to look inconspicuous as they close in for a better look.

If it were just the few of them it wouldn't be a big deal. But I know how this scenario plays out. All too quickly one person can become a large group that becomes far too much to handle.

"Can't they go?" Masen pleads, pushing his rain hat back on his head as he glances back at the onlookers.

"They won't," I sigh. I hold out my hand and he hops off the swing. "Come on, I'll race you to the car."

His spirits brighten as he tugs his hat down on his head. "Ready?" I ask, and he grins as I crouch down onto the balls of my feet, like a sprinter at the starting line. "Set…" He takes off before I can say _Go!_

"Cheater!" I call as I begin to jog after him. He laughs, running wildly through the grass. I catch him just before we reach the car and I hoist him up into the air as he giggles furiously.

"I was gonna beat you, I was gonna beat you Daddy!" he pants.

"Only because you're a little cheater!" I laugh, feeling a thousand times lighter, even with him in my arms.

"Nu-uh! I'm the fastest in the world! None of the girls can catch me at recess." I smile because I used to be fastest too, until I realized that letting that one skinny brunette catch me was far more fun than running away.

When I get Masen buckled into his seat, I'm actually kind of out of breath, my feet still soaked, a smile glued to my face. I start the car and see the teenage girls have given up on trying to look casual and have followed us right to the parking lot. Behind them, more people have begun to wander our way, curious about what's causing the commotion.

I can see Dem standing by his blacked-out SUV, arms crossed over his chest as he waits for us to leave safely. My heart clenches as I look back at Masen, and I can't help but wonder he'll ever know that it doesn't matter how long or short our days together are, it will never, ever be enough.

**.x.**

When we get to the apartment, we change out of our wet clothes and sit on the terrace with bowls of ice cream. I feel like shit for having to leave the park so early so I figured, fuck it, we'll have our ice cream before dinner. I'm all kinds of rebellious. Masen's cross-legged on the ground with his ice cream in his lap, and I'm laying on my side in the sun, the bowl on the concrete next to me. The unrelenting bustle of the city doesn't reach us easily up here, and I try and revel in the calm and quiet.

I watch Masen as he shovels ice cream into his mouth, his eyes roaming over empty flower pots and the withering ivy that snakes up a piece of lattice that leans against the outside wall. The balcony stretches across nearly two entire sides of the building, and yet aside from us, the empty planters are the only other things on it. I think about getting some patio furniture, and then wonder how often I'd really use it.

I like it down here on the ground with him. It feels closer, somehow.

"Daddy?" Masen asks, and I look up at him with my spoon halfway to my mouth.

"Yeah, buddy?"

He tilts his head to the side. "How come you don't live at home?"

I almost choke on my mouthful of vanilla. I swallow and set the spoon back in the bowl as I face him. "What do you mean? This is my home. Well, this is one of my homes."

"Yeah, but. Like, why don't you live at _my_ home? With me and Mommy."

_Oh. _I clear my throat, and there's this pain in my chest, it burns and twists. "Because…" Shit, what would Bella say? Because your Daddy loves his music more than he loves us? Because your Daddy chose a million people over two?

Because Garrett probably wouldn't appreciate it if I crashed their party?

I swallow hard. "Because your Mom and I –" I clear my throat and try again. "Because Garrett –" I sigh then say quietly, "Because my job takes me all over the world."

Masen frowns then sighs along with me. "I know."

"Do you?" I ask gently.

He looks up at me with wide eyes, and I know this is about something else before he even speaks. "My friend Heather has two dads. And Mommy says that I'm like Heather – pretty soon I'll have my dad and I'll have my stepdad. But I just want my one dad."

"Hey, buddy…. Come here." I frown as I sit up, reaching for him. He sets down his bowl and crawls into my lap. "You know, you're pretty lucky to have two dads. Some people don't even have _one_."

"Like how Mommy doesn't have a Mommy?"

"Mommy's Mommy is in heaven," I nod. "So kind of like that, yeah. And you get to have me and – and Garrett," my chest constricts but I try pretend like it doesn't turn my heart to lead to say it out loud. I swallow hard. "And I think that makes you pretty lucky."

Masen tips his head back so he can look at me as he speaks. "But when Garrett is my other daddy, I'll still have you?"

"You'll always have me, Mase," I promise him, resting my chin on the top of his head as I hold him against my chest. "No matter what." I start blinking hard as I stare at the sky, and the only thing I can think is _I can't let the kid see me cry. _

"Can I come with you?" he asks, his voice small. "Next place you go?"

I think about last fall, asking Bella if she and Masen wanted to come out to L.A., come spend some time in my world. I think of that hope I felt, just on the cusp of blooming with the certainty that she'd say _yes. _I think about how fleeting that hope was, how lightless my world suddenly was with the news she'd told me next.

_I'm getting married, Edward. _

I'll never forget her voice, the way the words spilled from her mouth. I'll never forget the way I felt, like she told me my best friend had died. I'll never forget that moment, when I realized I'd really lost her for good.

"Not next place," I tell Masen sadly. "But I'll take you one day, buddy."

"Okay," he says quietly, satiated with the promise of eventually.

I hold him tight, wishing I could make it better, wishing I could make it all easier. Then I get an idea.

"Hey," I say gently, "Do you know what I like to do when I'm sad?" Masen pulls away from me and shakes his head, wiping at tears that aren't there.

"Come on, I'll show you." I gather our bowls of melting ice cream and deposit them in the sink as he follows me through the apartment, down the hall and through the wide double doors that lead into the room that serves as an office. I can almost feel the tension drain from my body as I enter the room. I spend a lot of time writing in here. For some reason, I find no lack of inspiration whenever I'm back in Seattle.

This is the one room in the house that feels even remotely like home. Alice and Jas helped me paint it last Christmas, despite Al's insistence that all rock stars should hire interior decorators. We painted the walls a warm gold, and built shelves out of old barn wood. Alice found a guy in Portland who made desks out of driftwood, curved pieces fitted together and smoothed down enough to create a passable workspace. And even though most of my guitars stay in my apartment in L.A., my favorites each have a place on the wall here.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Masen standing inside the doorway, watching me with curiosity.

"Here, sit down," I nod to the antique leather office chair that sits behind the desk and he crawls up. I grab an acoustic guitar off the wall and pull a tall wooden stool around the side of the desk.

"What are you doing, Daddy?" Masen asks.

I take a seat, leaning over the guitar as my fingers gently brush the strings to check that it's in tune. "We're going to write a song," I smile, adjusting a few of the pegs. When I'm satisfied with the sound, I lean back in the chair and face Masen. "What do you want to write about?"

He shrugs, but I can see the excitement gathering on his face.

I hand him a legal pad and pull one across the desk so it's in front of me, and grab a pencil for each of us. "Hmmm…" I say, tapping the eraser against my chin as I look thoughtfully over at Mase. "Let's start with something easy. Tell me something you like. Something you think is pretty."

Masen looks a little shy. "Ummm… Flowers?" he suggests. "Grandma says flowers are pretty."

I nod. "Flowers are pretty," I agree. "But everyone thinks that flowers are pretty. What about something you don't think anyone else would say."

Masen seems to consider this for a moment, then sighs, "Lacy Roberts."

My eyebrows shoot up and I do a double take, trying to hide my amusement. "Lacy Roberts," I repeat once I trust my voice won't sound mocking, writing the name down on the legal pad. Masen mimics me, scribbling something on his own page. "Now, why do you think Lacy Roberts is pretty?"

"'Cause… she's got red hair. And she smells like pickles."

This time I have a hard time disguising my snort of laughter, but I grin as I look up at Masen. "She smells like pickles? I like that."

He smiles shyly back at me as I write it down on the paper. "And she always lets me be doctor when we play house." I keep writing as he tells me more about Lacy. "She can do the most skips in a row on the jump rope, and I build the biggest towers with the blocks so she can knock it over. She always shares her pickle and cheese sammaches with me even though Nathan always asks first." I smile and nod. I guess that explains the pickle smell.

Masen continues, "She stood beside me at class pictures because we're the tallest and she told her mom I'm her best friend."

I look up at Masen, pencil poised just above the legal pad. I kind of have to shake myself, and I have to wonder if Bella has any idea that this was how I used to sound when I talked about her.

"She sounds really nice, buddy," I say softly.

Masen nods, all excited. "She's my best friend, too. Who is your best friend, Daddy?"

I point the eraser end of my pencil at him across the desk. "You are," I say with a wink.

His smile grows. "Can I have two best friends?"

"You can have as many as you want," I tell him.

"Who's your other best friends?" he asks.

"Well… Uncle Jasper. Uncle Ty and Uncle Mark."

"Because you make music together?" Masen asks.

I nod.

"Are we gonna make music together?"

"Yep," I say, nodding again.

"Mommy is one of my best friends. Is Mommy your best friend too?"

I tap the pencil on the legal pad. "Mommy used to be my very best friend in the world," I tell him softly.

"Like Lacy?"

"Exactly like Lacy."

"I hope me and Lacy are best friends when we're old like you and Mommy."

I smile sadly. I want to tell him no you don't, not like me and Mommy. But instead I say, "I sure hope so too, buddy."

**.x.**

After we've filled up an entire page about Lacy Roberts, I pick away at the guitar, singing about _Lacy, Lacy, pickles and cheese, you share your sammach though Nathan says please. _I sing until Masen is blushing and giggling so hard he nearly falls out of his chair.

When I finally put the guitar away, our laughter has rewritten the gloomiest parts of the day. I swear there's something infinite about music, like it's the purest way to cleanse the soul.

Ty always says that it's magic, but it's so much more than that.

Masen slides from his chair and does a thorough inspection of the office, testing out a few of my other guitars and grinning at the goofy pictures that Carlisle took of Mase and I when he was two. We were painting a birdhouse for him to give to Bella for Mother's Day, and Masen is covered in streaks of reds and yellows and blues. In one of the pictures, he's reaching out and smearing his paint-covered hands over my face, and it was such a beautiful moment that I couldn't care that it took me nearly a week to get the blue streaks off my jaw. Esme had grabbed the wrong paint, and I'd let her explain to Bella why I was returning our son looking like a human canvas of a watercolor painting.

I think Bella was too pleased with the birdhouse to be overly angry, anyway.

When Mase and I leave the office, we play hide-and-seek and cook dinner together, and it's perfect. Like, movie-montage perfect. And as we laugh and play I realize that I feel _full_, like bursting with happiness. Like I can't handle how big he makes me smile. And I want this, I want to hold onto this feeling, I want to hold onto him just like this.

I want to stay here, like this.

I want to stay.

And like that, it hits me.

I realize what it was that I decided earlier, while listening to Masen in the backseat crying for a man who isn't his father, when I looked into his face and he was staring up at me like I was a total stranger. I realize what I've know all along, what I know every time he laughs, he smiles, he cries. What I've known every time I look at Bella and I see the guarded sadness, the longing and the disappointment. What I've known every time our eyes meet and we're mirrors of each other as we silently wonder what could have been. What I've known every time I close my eyes and see her face, what every memory tells me, the ones I hold on to until I'm trembling and tired and ready to run far from it all.

I know.

I know.

I'm coming home.

**.x.**


End file.
